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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618989">Better Luck</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux'>cowboykylux</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Flip Zimmerman/Reader Uploads [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>BlacKkKlansman (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bath Sex, Bathtub Sex, Blood and Violence, Brutal Murder, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Flip Zimmerman Loves His Wife, Graphic Description of Corpses, Home Invasion, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Married Couple, Mild Gore, Mirror Sex, Misogyny, Murder, Murder Kink, Past Domestic Violence, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, Shameless Smut, Stabbing, Stalking, Torture, True Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:02:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,625</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618989</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A late night bubble bath takes a deadly turn, when a face you thought you'd never see again comes crashing into your home. Lucky for you, Flip doesn't take too kindly to people trying to harm the most precious thing in the world to him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Flip Zimmerman/Reader Uploads [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1221752</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Better Luck</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been a long day, you know. Flip was out late, was out for a real long time, but now he was home, and his muscles were sore, he was achin’ for a bath. So in the bathroom you are, naked and lounging among a pile of bubbles, fragrant and delicate as they pop in the air around you.</p><p>He’s looking at you with that doe-eyed expression of his, the one he gets when he’s had a couple beers or has been away from you for too long. This is the latter, you know, his eyes are clear with sobriety, just soft and sparkling with love. You look right back at him, admire the way his wet hair makes those ears of his stick out, admire how his dimples crease and crinkle around his goatee when he smiles.</p><p>“Penny for your thoughts, foxy lady?” Flip asks you after a moment of sweet eye contact that you reciprocate half hidden behind the suds.</p><p>“Just thinkin’ about how handsome you are, it’s unfair.” You reply, lifting your foot to rest it cheekily on his shoulder.</p><p>“Oh yeah?” He grins, huffing and puffing on the cigarette he’s got, blowing smoke towards the vent in the ceiling, turning to press little smooches against your ankle, “Why don’t you tell me all about it.”</p><p>“Come a little closer and I just might.” You nudge him towards you with your foot, and he stubs out the cigarette to move across the tub and cover your body with his.</p><p>His mouth is on yours teasingly. His lips are plush and full and just barely out of reach, making you work for it, making you giggle and grin and nip little bites at his cheek. He smiles and you cup his neck and hold him close, his wet hair shagging down around his face and enveloping you both in a curtain of brown. Your eyes slip closed and he gives in, breathes in deeply the scent of you and the soap and the suds and –</p><p>There’s a <strong><em>CRASH!</em></strong> downstairs.</p><p> </p><p>Flip freezes, he hears it first, his reflexes attuned to the world around him ever so quicker than yours.</p><p>His voice is hard all of a sudden, jaw clenched together as he’s lifting himself out of the tub, grabbing a towel and ordering you to, “Stay here.”</p><p>With the thud of your heartbeat pounding behind your ears, you ignore him and follow him out of the tub immediately. The thought of leaving him to deal with whatever that crash was alone is simply unbearable, almost as terrifying as the thought of staying upstairs by yourself. Not now, you couldn’t sit in this tub alone now. You don’t even bother to drain it, only going so far as to blow out the candles so they don’t catch onto the curtain and burn your house down.</p><p>Flip sees you getting dressed hurriedly beside him and is already frowning, scowling deep and heavy as he tugs on the pair of jeans he was wearing earlier that day and a t-shirt from the hamper. You pull on a nightgown, just something to cover yourself up. Neither of you are completely dry, but there’s another crash from downstairs, and you can’t find it in you to care, not when your heart is racing as fast as it is.</p><p>You stand behind Flip silently, not daring to make a single sound, not going to make a single breath as he grabs his gun from the dresser and begins his descent down the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>It’s dark, downstairs.</p><p>It’s quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Flip avoids the creaky floorboard and you do the same, hovering just before that step, not wanting to make Flip angry by going any further. You’re lucky he let you go this far.</p><p> </p><p>He goes farther.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a <strong><em>SMASH!</em></strong> then, the sound of glass shattering, likely the little window above the sink in your kitchen, and Flip bolts.</p><p> </p><p>He’s deadly silent as he runs through the pitch black of the house, Flip is. You can’t see anything, can’t hear anything, there’s no sound of struggle or gunfire yet, not yet. Just the heavy thud of boots on carpeting and wood panel flooring, and your heartbeat hammering hammering hammering in your ears. You’re trying not to scream, and the impulse is getting harder harder harder to hold back when you finally hear,</p><p>“Let me go! Let me – I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” It’s a man’s voice, a man who you recognize, and the blood drains from your face when you do recognize it – it seems almost like a lifetime ago, an age ago, since you’ve heard it.</p><p>The sounds of struggling are loud now, scuffling as Flip wrestles and wrangles the intruder to the floor. You descend the stairs slowly, in disbelief, your body going numb, going cold, as you hear the crunch of a nose being broken and the grunts that accompany it. You’re frozen, frozen in place as your eyes widen as far as they will go, vision blurred from the way you’re shaking. Are you shaking? You can’t tell, you’re numb, you can’t feel anything.</p><p>“Shut the fuck up.” Flip shouts, his voice louder than anything you’ve ever heard before, it echoes in your brain a thousand times. When you turn the corner you can see him standing over the man, pistol whipping him in the face with the butt of his gun, shouting so hard that his face shakes, that spit flies and catches in the moonlight, “I said shut up!”</p><p>You hug the corner of the hallway that faces the kitchen, where the sliding glass door is open and broken – not the window then, you think fleetingly – and Flip whips around to face you.</p><p>His face is deranged, eyes wide and black and filled with rage, blood dripping down from his fingertips from where the man’s nose was broken under his fist, his gun. The expression on Flip’s face is one that you’ve only seen once before, a long time ago when you were just a teenager, when he…well. You don’t need a reminder of what he did, how he saved you then.   </p><p>Flip turns to face you more fully, and you can see how your husband has this intruder pinned so beautifully underneath him. Flip has one big knee slammed down on the cavity of his stomach, bent over to grip him by his throat. The gun is in his other hand, and though Flip looks just shy of feral, the gun does not shake. Despite that, despite his calm, you feel something clawing up your throat, a scream, a shriek of terror when your eyes adjust and the familiar outline of the man’s face is revealed to you.</p><p> </p><p>Time stands still.</p><p>He looks so different, and yet exactly the same.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a little hard to tell, with his nose smashed in the way that it is, with blood dripping oozing flowing down onto his lips – but you know him, you know this man. A friend of…<em>his</em>, your ex. The very same one that Flip disposed of over a decade ago, that ex. This man, one of his cronies, you remember these features.</p><p>They’re as disturbing to you now as they were then, the face that haunted your every step. Standing outside your window in the dead of night, lurking behind parked cars in lots, always on the same side of the street – following, watching, waiting.</p><p> </p><p>Hunting.</p><p> </p><p>He’s older now, hardened, the man. But the thing that has yet to change, the thing that chills you more than anything else, is the look in his eye. That sparkle, the glimmer of madness, the vacant shine – like a shark.</p><p>“Alex? Is that you?” You stand in silence for too long, holding your breath. The words fall out of your mouth seemingly on their own, like you’re surprised you remember the name. But how could you forget? How could you, when he had done everything in his power to make you pay for what happened to Josh?</p><p>Alex's ribcage expands under the pressure of Flip’s knee, and he takes in a ragged breath, a strained one. He’s in pain, you can tell, he has to be in pain, but he doesn’t show it.</p><p>“Answer her.” Flip doesn’t shout this time, his brain working a million miles a minute. He looks at you, confused, concerned. He waits, his eyes on you. It’s easy for him, restraining Alex, the man is as thin and gangly as he was back in high school, like he never grew into his body.</p><p>“Long time no see.” Alex grins at you, blood on his teeth.</p><p>You come closer, one foot in front of the other as you enter the kitchen. Alex doesn’t struggle against Flip’s hold, he knows it’s of no use. But he’s slippery, a slimy bastard, he’s going to wait for an opportunity to get out from under Flip’s grip and then he’ll lunge for you.</p><p>You know this.</p><p>You know Flip won’t give him the opportunity.</p><p>“I thought they put you away for good.” You say, your voice entirely too calm.</p><p>“So did they.” Alex replies, his grin wider.</p><p>You give him a sparing glance, he’s still in his prison uniform, covered in filth and grime and muck. Irrationally, a flare of anger shoots through you for how you just mopped the floors. Flip seems to notice that at the same time, and he breaks his silence.</p><p>“You know him?” He asks you gently, calmly, a voice so laced with venom that it’s soothing and terrifying at the same time. Flip wants to rip him to pieces, his jaw is clenched so tightly that you’re worried for his teeth.</p><p>“He’s the one I’ve told you about, the one who wouldn’t ever leave me alone back in high school.” You reply, nodding slowly as you take a few more steps closer closer closer, inching towards the monster who has sought you out once again, “Remember I called the cops but they said they couldn’t do anything since he only stalked me? They found him trying to kidnap a girl at the college, found a padlocked cooler in his truck, knives. She was the fourth girl he had gotten to.”</p><p>“I remember.” Flip turns his attention back to the man underneath him, who is now starting to squirm, starting to get flighty. He’s waiting for his opportunity, he doesn’t know he’s not going to get one, not with Flip, not when Flip continues, “Liked cutting women up, isn’t that right, Alex? Liked hearing them scream for you, got off on it, right?”</p><p>“Maybe.” He’s struggling, the pressure on his lungs, on his throat growing too much for him. You watch watch watch, as Flip makes up his mind.</p><p>“Is that what you came here for tonight? To cut my girl up?” The questions are hypothetical, but they’re not at the same time. Flip knows what he’s going to do, he just needs Alex to say it so he has the permission.</p><p>“Maybe.” Alex chokes, and Flip doesn’t like that.</p><p>“Maybe’s not a fucking answer!” Flip shouts so loudly that the veins in his neck stand out as he grasps Alex's sandy blonde hair as tightly as he can and bashes his head against the floor, blood splattering out from the broken nose in an arc across the wood paneling.</p><p>“What are you going to do with him?” You whisper then, your heart racing, thudding hammering pounding in your chest.</p><p>“What do you want me to do?” Flip looks up at you with wide open eyes, his gaze imploring, near begging.</p><p>“I want you to kill him.” You say without even thinking about it.</p><p>You say it too quickly.</p><p> </p><p>You’ve been wanting to say it for so many years.</p><p> </p><p>But this…this is different than the last time. The last time you were both young, much too young.</p><p>The last time it was an accident, a mistake that had to be covered up.</p><p>The last time Flip hadn’t planned on killing the boy who beat the shit out of you.</p><p>(You don’t know, but yes. Yes he had.)</p><p>He’s a detective now, a <em>lieutenant </em>now. He could lose everything if someone were to find out. He could be locked away for the rest of his life, he could be put to death. They just reinstated capital punishment, just this year, you know. You know you know you know – and yet.</p><p>And yet, Flip cannot imagine doing anything else to this man, cannot imagine any other outcome for him.</p><p>“Honey-bunny?” He asks you softly, sweetly, as Alex begins to struggle more significantly underneath him, growing impatient, growing <em>scared. </em></p><p>“Yes Phil?” You whisper, watching watching watching.</p><p>Flip looks at Alex, mulls it over for a moment before licking his lips and instructing,</p><p>“Go put a tarp down in the basement.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s surreal, doing this. The moment the words leave his lips you’re running, bolting down the hall and to the stairs that go down down down. As soon as you’re out of sight, you hear a gunshot, and a scream.</p><p>You don’t look back.</p><p>The basement’s not the most frequented place in the house, you almost forget that it’s there half the time. Nothing but storage, big cardboard boxes labeled with holiday decorations that it’s not time for.</p><p>There’s a single lightbulb that flickers on and off for a moment before settling on the low light of an orange glow. You have to search for a minute for where the tarps might be, eventually finding them in the back from when you had all those renovations done last year. Your friends playfully mocked you for keeping them back then, but who was laughing now?</p><p>Clearing a space on the floor, you put the tarps down, and as quickly as you can, you push all the boxes as far out of the way as possible.</p><p>It’s only a minute before Flip is kicking the door in, Alex screaming and thrashing in his hold. Your stomach churns when you see that he shot a hole through Alex's cheek, has hooked his finger through it and is using that to pull him down the steps. Flip doesn’t give a shit if his cheek tears clean through, he doesn’t care, he’s seeing red.</p><p>“You picked the wrong fucking house to try, the wrong fucking woman.” He throws Alex's body onto the center of the tarp and before he can even try to get up, he kicks Alex in the chest to knock the wind out of him.</p><p>The tarp is already going slick with blood as it gushes out of the bullet hole in Alex's cheek. Flip rips open the buttons of Alex's, taped to his body are knives that he must have smuggled out of prison. Makeshift torture tools, shanks and shivs that he spent who knows how long working on.</p><p>“Just kill me already!” Alex begs, but Flip shakes his head.</p><p>“No.” He grits out, yanking the duct tape off Alex's flesh as he tears the knives away from his torso. “No, that’s too quick, too easy for you. You don’t deserve that.”</p><p>It’s like an out of body experience, watching this. You step closer, placing a hand on Flip’s shoulder. He doesn’t recoil, he recognizes your touch, he knows it’s you.</p><p>“Flip, let me do the first one, please?” You ask, watching Alex's eyes widen far far far, so far that they’re almost popping out of his skull. You take one of the knives from Flip, slide it from his palm to yours as you whisper in his ear, “Please, I want to do the first one.”</p><p>“Go ahead, I’ve got him princess, my sweet girl, I’ve got him.” Flip encourages you, turns to kiss at your cheek, the soft skin by your jaw, your ear. Something about the praise, about the tone of his voice, the full faith he has in you, makes your pussy throb. Your thighs press together when he says, “Go ahead.”</p><p>Flip holds Alex in a headlock, and before the man can say anything, you’re stabbing him in the gut, hard.</p><p>The knife slips into his flesh easily, and you watch in morbid fascination as it sinks deeper deeper deeper, until it’s all the way in, piercing slicing serrated and cruel. You look up to Flip, half terrified for what you’re doing, and half enthralled. You’ve never done this before, you’ve never done anything like this before – not even the last time.</p><p>There’s no going back now, you both know. Not now, not now that there’s a knife embedded into his stomach.</p><p>Flip nods.</p><p>Alex screams.</p><p>“No one can hear you, no one will come for you.” Flip says lowly, dangerous and dark as Alex writhes shakes scream scream screams in his hold. “Do it again, ketsl.”</p><p>You yank the knife out and stab him again, a little higher this time. There’s muscle here, something, you don’t know, you never paid very close attention in anatomy class. You have to slam the knife in a little harder to get it through, the force of the impact blurring your vision for a minute.</p><p>“You’re doing so well sweetheart,” Flip’s voice is quiet, but loud. So loud in your brain, in your mind. He might be whispering, he might be screaming, you wouldn’t know. “Let me take over, you’ve done enough.”</p><p>You pass him the knife again, and he’s quick to continue what you started. Again again again, Flip stabs him, ripping the knife out and plunging it back in, slashing him up. You’re turned on, so turned on by the way Flip does this for you. It’s revolting, sickening, how wet your thighs become, but you love it, you can’t stop watching the way Flip’s muscles move flex tense as he kills this man for you.</p><p>The more Flip does it, the more cathartic it becomes, the more elated you feel.</p><p>Tears bubble up, well up in your eyes, but they’re not of sadness, they’re of <em>relief. </em></p><p>“Remember how no one wanted you? How no one ever spoke to you because they thought you were a lunatic? Remember how I tried so hard to be a friend to you? I did everything I could for you, I stood up for you, listened to you, cared for you!” You don’t hold the words back, the volume of your voice growing louder and louder with each stab of this knife, the knife Alex had brought to use on you. “And this is how you repay me.”</p><p>Alex thrashes, rages against Flip’s hold. He kicks his legs out in fury, his eyes blank, blood choking up through the wounds in his stomach, pouring out of his mouth, of his cheek.</p><p>“This is <em>your </em>fault!” Alex screams, “Your fault! You – you led me on! You lied to me, I thought you were mine! You were supposed to be mine!!”</p><p>“I don’t belong to anyone.” You smack him sharply across the face for the audacity of his words, “But if I did, it wouldn’t be you.”</p><p>Alex hemorrhages on the floor, seizes, the toll of his wounds taking over him. The force he must have exerted in his screaming fit must have ruptured something, you watch him shiver and tremble uncontrollably on the floor, rolling in his own blood.</p><p>“I’ve had enough of your noise.” Flip says to Alex.</p><p>Flip grabs Alex's face, hooks one hand around his upper teeth, the other around his lower, and snaps the jaw clean off its hinges with a sickening <em>crack!</em></p><p>It’s unsettling, the way that it hangs there, unattached by anything other than muscle, limp and weak.</p><p>He then reaches inside one of the cavities made by your stab wounds, and squeezes Alex's heart, strangles it, forces a heart attack, making him thrash and gurgle hot steaming blood in his throat, until it stops.</p><p> </p><p>It all stops.</p><p> </p><p>It’s quiet, again.</p><p> </p><p>Flip lets Alex drop limply to the floor, the tarp crinkling, slick with blood. He pulls his hands away, smears the red against Alex's face to close his eyes. He doesn’t want him looking at you, not even in death.</p><p>“Holy shit.” You breathe, looking down at the corpse in your basement.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Flip faces you hesitantly. He’s covered up to his forearms in blood, chest heaving. He’s afraid of scaring you, afraid of causing you more stress, you can tell.</p><p>“Yeah, just,” You reach out your hands for him, your own blood-stained hands, hands that somehow, <em>somehow</em> feel more clean than they ever have before. Flip gently takes them in his own, you admire how broad and handsome the palms are as you look up at him and whisper, “I’ve been living with the fear of him finding me in the back of my head for a decade. And now thanks to you, it’s gone. Thank you – Philip, <em>thank you.</em>”</p><p>The tears are back, the intense relief of this nightmare being over hitting you like a ton of bricks. Flip crushes you to his chest, wraps his arms around you and lets you cry, lets you mold yourself to his body and tuck your face under his chin, lets you let him hold you.</p><p>“Nothing will ever hurt you, not as long as I’m around.” He caresses the base of your skull, pets your hair down, neither of you caring about the blood on his hands. He kisses your temple, “You understand me? Nothing, no one. I’ll kill them, I’ll kill anything that ever dares to try.”</p><p>You pull away slightly, just enough for you to look up at him with tears of love and relief in your eyes as you whisper, “Kiss me.”</p><p>He doesn’t hesitate, the taste of iron and salt on his tongue is intoxicating. He licks into your mouth and you sigh into his, exchanging silent <em>I love yous </em>in the way your lips move together. It’s slow, it’s unhurried, it’s careful yet fulfilling in all the best ways.</p><p>“I’m so wet for you Flip.” You mumble against his lips, bringing one of his hands to slip under your nightgown, for him to feel how much you want him, how much you want him to, “Fuck me, hard.”</p><p>“Not here.” He pulls your hand back up to kiss at your wrist.</p><p>“Phil,” you whine, worried for a second, but he just shakes his head sweetly and kisses your wrist again.</p><p>“No sweetheart, not here. Not where he can see you.” Flip leads you towards the stairs, bringing you away from the body, the corpse that bleeds slowly, steadily on the tarp. He doesn’t let you look back, pulls you slowly, gently up the stairs. “I don’t want him looking at you.”</p><p>“Take me to the bathroom then, the tub should still be full.” You remember suddenly, “Let me wash you clean.”</p><p>You smile at one another, Flip locks the basement door just for good measure, and up to the bathroom you go.</p><p> </p><p>It’s strange, being back in the rest of the house. On your way up to the master suite you see the tracks, the mess that will have to be cleaned up in the morning. The glass from the sliding door, the mud, the blood. You’re too wound up to care right now, too focused on the ache between your legs.</p><p>But still, it will have to be dealt with.</p><p>Flip brings you to the bathroom, and the tub is still filled. He keeps the lights off, it’s so dark, dark everywhere in the house. Dark enough that this almost feels like a dream. The water, somehow, is still hot, and it makes you wonder how long you were even really gone.</p><p>It could have been ten minutes or a weekend, you don’t know. There are no windows in the basement.</p><p>Flip steps into the tub first, and you follow after, sitting with your legs straddling his thick strong waist. His cock is hard, it bumps up against your thigh as you settle yourself above him, trying to get a good position for you to sink down down down, the stretch filling you as his cock bottoms out.</p><p>“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I’d do anything for you, anything.” Flip groans, dunking his hands in the bath water to quickly rinse them of their grime, before cupping your breasts as you sigh and moan softly above him.</p><p>“I know handsome, I know, I would do the same.” You bite at your lips, your hands bracing on his chest as he gets more comfortable in the hot water of the tub. You can only imagine that the water must be stained red, clear.</p><p>Something about that makes you anxious for a minute, so you unplug the drain and let it quickly empty, before plugging it and turning on the faucet once more. The pipes creak from the sudden demand for hot water, boiling hot, steaming hot, and Flip sighs happily as it soothes his tense muscles.</p><p>“You’ve got such a tight pussy.” He moans as he gets his purchase on the bottom of the tub and thrusts up slightly, pushing his cock further into you. “I could live here, I want to live here, ohhh <em>fuck.</em>”</p><p>You let out a little yelp from the feeling of it, of how he drags that cock of his in and out of you, how you can feel all the thick veins and ridges pushing and thrusting against your walls. You settle back against his thighs where his knees are bent in the tub, looking up at the small mirror that he bolted to the ceiling some years ago.</p><p>“Look how good we look,” You gasp as he thrusts faster, as you bounce on his cock, his hands on your tits and pinching at your nipples. “Look how nice we fit together, Flip, fuck – oh Flip!”</p><p>“So beautiful.” He sounds drunk, you think with a smile, drunk off your pussy. He watches his cock disappear in and out of you instead of looking at the mirror, and that’s fine with you because you can barely see straight as it is.</p><p>“Oh yes, yesyesyes, please, more, Flip!” You watch yourself get fucked, watch as your mouth drops open, as you bounce bounce bounce, his hands gripping you grasping you all over, holding you tight, fucking you fast. His hand moves somehow in slow motion to rub hard circles on your clit, making your body shudder, drooling all over yourself.</p><p>You come, and maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the relief, maybe it’s the sheer power and strength of the man underneath you, but when you come it’s like firecrackers in your veins, sparking up and shooting up your spine, making you gasp sharply, loudly.</p><p>“Say my name over and over again and, once you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it.” He snarls, close to an orgasm himself, just teetering right over the edge.</p><p>You move your hips in little circles that make his head thunk back onto the rim of the tub, make him whimper and snap his teeth together as his thrusts fuck you through the bliss of orgasm.</p><p>“Flip, Flip – Phil! Philip oh, <em>yes, yes!</em>” You shout shout shout until your voice breaks and it goes up to a high pitched scream, the feeling of his cock throbbing pulsing spilling inside you enough to make you dizzy.</p><p>“Shit.” He groans low and dark as he bites down hard on your throat, hands squeezing and kneading your tits.</p><p>And then there’s nothing but the sound of heavy breathing once again. But this time, this time it’s bliss, sheer and utter joy that permeates from his body into yours as he comes down from his high.</p><p>You smile down at him, big grin, so happy, tucking his wet hair behind his ears as you shut the faucet off. The tub is filled to the brim, water sloshes over the side of the porcelain, but you don’t care. Your body is still tingling, nerves on fire, warmed inside and out.</p><p>Flip gives you that doe eyed look of his again, and you once again cannot help but think how handsome he is. You huff out a laugh, how surreal the entire ordeal was. You wonder if you’ll scream, if you’ll cry, if you’re just in shock.</p><p>You don’t feel like you’re in shock, you feel like you’re flying.</p><p>“Penny for your thoughts, foxy lady?” Flip asks, reaching up a finger to caress the bridge of your nose.</p><p>You both break out into absurd giggles, and you shrug, reaching across the tub to grab his pack of camels. The little match glows redorangeyellow when you light it, and the both of you stare at the small flame as you bring it to the cigarette you’ve stuck between your lips. It burns the edge of the cigarette, and when the tip glows red you pass it to Flip, to your husband.</p><p>There’s a sizzle as you drop the match into the bathwater.</p><p>“What are we gonna do?” You ask him, voice broken, barely above a whisper.</p><p>“About what, ketsl?” Flip hums, breathing smoke thick and heavy out of his mouth and nose on the exhale. It travels up up up and clings to the mirror on the ceiling, the mirror that’s now foggy with the hot steam of the bath.</p><p>“The body in our basement.” You reply casually, as if you were asking what he’d like for lunch.</p><p>He shifts a little, more water sloshes around. If there were more light in the bathroom, if it weren’t so dark, you might be able to watch it wash away the blood on the tile, thinning it out until it disappears.</p><p>“Don’t worry about that.” Flip whispers, his hands rubbing soothingly against your back, your sides. “I’ll take care of it.”</p><p>“You won’t get in trouble?” For the first time your voice wavers, the thought of anyone taking your husband away from you dripping like a cold terror down your spine.</p><p>“No one’s going to find out, I promise.” He shakes his head, assuring and reassuring you.</p><p>You have every reason to believe him, to trust him, so you do. Wholly and completely, you do.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The next morning you wake up alone. It’s early, but that’s just because you’re used to waking up early with Flip and his job. The alarm clock is ringing, and you have to roll over to Flip’s side of the bed to turn it off. Carefully, you slip out of bed and tip-toe downstairs, blinking in surprise at what you find.</p><p>There’s no mess anywhere. Nothing, no mud no blood no prints or marks. You creep down to the basement, find it perfectly clean and empty. The only sign of trouble is the broken sliding door, but even that has been taped up with big pieces of paper, all the glass swept away.</p><p>Flip comes home then, the front door opening and closing softly. Tucked under his elbow is a brown paper bag, the smell of freshly baked bagels filling the living room as you go to meet him.</p><p>“Clyde knows a guy who’ll come fix the door.” He says after he kisses your cheek and wishes you a good morning.</p><p>“Clyde knows?” You take the bag from him and go over to the kitchen, him following hot on your heels like the duckling that he is.</p><p>“It was my turn for a cauliflower.” Flip smiles against your cheek as he smooches his favorite spot there again and again and again, as you pop a bagel into the toaster, wanting him to have at least something small to eat before he has to go to work.</p><p>“I’ll swing by the bar later, bring him lunch.” You resolve, thankful for your friends.</p><p>“Keep an eye out for the three o’clock news.” He whispers, even though there’s no one there to be listening. He turns you to face him, kissing you properly, soundly on the lips, “Love you ketsl, I’ll be home early tonight.”</p><p>You grin at him, not bothering to flinch when the bagel pops out of the toaster, and slather cream cheese and lox on it for his drive over to the station.</p><p> </p><p>He’s got an icy cold Shirley temple waiting for you when you walk into Duck Tape, Clyde does. Clyde doesn’t ever really smile much, he’s too much like Flip that way, but he looks at you warmly, opens his arms up for you as you walk behind the bar and give him a tight hug.</p><p>“Hey darlin’, I was hopin’ you’d come round.” Clyde taps his knuckles under your chin playfully.</p><p>“Heard you helped my man out today.” You offer him a nicely packaged lunch and a smile.</p><p>“Wasn’t no trouble at all.” He replies. Even though there’s few patrons in the bar at this time of day, he still keeps his voice down. Thankfully Clyde’s always been soft spoken, no one pays it much mind.</p><p>The news turns on then, a breaking report just out of town. You and Clyde both force yourself to be as casually interested as possible, as a woman in a blazer stands just outside a line of yellow tape and police cars – cars you recognize, one car in particular that you recognize – explaining how a convict had escaped and was found mauled to death by a wild bear late last night.</p><p>“Damn,” One of the regular men at the bar whistles, “What kinda bad luck? Breaking out of jail and gettin’ killed after not ten minutes of freedom.”</p><p>“Pretty bad.” You reply with a nod.</p><p>“To better luck.” The drunk raises his beer and tilts it towards you.</p><p>You grin, pick up your shirley temple and clink the glass against his.</p><p>“To better luck.”  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Inspired by a bunch of prompts, I hope you enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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